I’m only writing today to note that Star Wars Episode I came out today, and it’s a pretty good movie, except for the fact that Jar Jar Binks’s race lives in snow globes. Also of note: I DID go to Lagoon last Saturday with Billy (see June 14, 1997 for picture) (of Billy, not Lagoon)

Not a lot has happened since last time (it was only nine days ago), but a lot has happened emotionally. To start off, I am going to Senior Ball, kind of. Well, really, I’m just going on a date on the same date (no pun intended) as Senior Ball, but not going to the actual ball; therefore, my date (Haley Greer) is saving mondo money on the $60-$75 dinner & dance (plus dress, etc.) and I save the tuxedo hassle. We’re going to Lagoon (with the New Rocket! Woohoo!) with Andrew Beck and Becky Ashby, a pokey and tickly couple. (Don’t ask; you’ll find out in high school.) Secondly, I no longer feel the way I felt in the previous entry anymore. I sometimes get depressed, and I write some pretty desperate things. But then I realize: it’s life! Deal with it, move on. Things WILL be OK! Let me repeat:

Things WILL be OK!

Don’t be depressed! It just makes you sad and everyone else sadder! Get confident, stupid! And other exciting uplifting slogans. Trust me, it’s worth it all. Well, I must go now. See you.

Well, Amber Wulle (from Dec. 16, 1992) now despises Hunter High. She wrote an editorial in the Salt Lake Tribune about a week ago about how she thinks schools on the “west side” are inferior academically, so she’s going to Cottonwood High School instead. “Ppppttth,” I say.

You know what? Of course not, you’re a journal. Well, I’ll tell you. I play second fiddle (not literally). In most of my friends’ lives, I am the second best. Every single friend I have, boy or girl, with the possible exception of Nate Winder, has someone that They would rather be with or talk to other than me. I think it’s because I am so protective of things I hold dear. I rarely give out compliments, because I feel that They should mean more to the recipient. If someone tells everyone that they’re great, then soon people think that they’re just saying it to everyone and it loses its meaning. If, on the other hand, someone receives a compliment from a guy who rarely compliments anyone, then They might think, “Wow! If HE thinks I’m great, I must really BE pretty gosh darn good!” Maybe I’m just being stupid, but it’s the way I feel. Well, gotta go. Bye.